


he walked up to me so gracefully and took my crown of thorns

by janie_tangerine



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Teachers, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Smut, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Panic Attacks, Past Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Torture, Robb Stark is a Gift, Scars, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Workplace Relationship, gratuitous pop culture everywhere because the author can't help it, gratuitous tarantino mentions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-18
Updated: 2016-06-18
Packaged: 2018-07-15 17:27:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7231885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/janie_tangerine/pseuds/janie_tangerine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Fact is, Robb usually does swing for women when it comes to finding people attractive, but he definitely does have a type as far as men goes. Theon Greyjoy, who is slightly taller than he is, has neatly cut dark hair long enough to touch his collarbone, eyes as dark as his hair, a face that could have tempted a few Renaissance painters into at least sketching it and a grin that exudes charm, is… exactly that type, as far as looks go.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Robb puts away the form and goes next to Ygritte, who’s introducing herself.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Oh, and this is Robb,” she says, pretty much grabbing his arm and dragging him forward. “Future head of the history department, most probably.”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“Thanks, I could have introduced myself,” Robb sighs before looking at Theon again - damn, he really does have beautiful eyes. “Hey,” he says, extending a hand, “I’m Robb. Robb Stark. Welcome to the madness and good luck setting up that class again, by now it’s a urban legend.”</i>
</p><p>In which Robb Stark is very, very intrigued with the new cinema history professor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	he walked up to me so gracefully and took my crown of thorns

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LBl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LBl/gifts).



> My prompt for this one was ' _Modern AU, Throbb: Theon Greyjoy is the new teacher/professor in Westeros University/Highschool. He's charming, cocky and loves flirting with everyone, but each time someone asks him a personal question, he deflects with a joke. Teacher/professor Robb Stark is not a curious man usually, but something in the newcomer piques his curiosity. (Post-Ramsay!Theon wearing gloves and long sleeves to hide his missing fingers and scars + lots of Pining please)_ '. Out of the preferred extras I think there's at least the porn, the workplace relationships and the pining - I hope you like it! Many thanks to tumblr user electricalice for the invaluable help in deciding who else was in the staff and their roles. ;) The author also hasn't gone to university in the UK, but has a parent who teaches uni and has done enough academia herself so hopefully this is somewhat plausible as far as the teachers' point of view goes.. ;) the title is from Bob Dylan and I probably should apologize in advance again for the gratuitous references to stuff no one cares about but hey these people had to teach *something*.

There are a lot of things Robb Stark likes about his job, he thinks as he finally leaves his office and heads for the meeting room. Sometimes, they are things most of his colleagues hate - for one, he doesn’t mind students sending him drafts for the last chapter of their thesis four days before they have to actually turn it in. He also doesn’t particularly mind marking atrocious midterm finals - there’s a good one at least every five, which is statistically not a bad result at all and means someone actually did listen to him during class. Professor Luwin, his recently retired mentor, always told him that it was because he was young and enthusiastic and by the time he hit thirty-five he’d have gained a healthier and less optimistic attitude about academia, but he’s just turned thirty, last year he was finally hired for good, and he’s still fairly optimistic about everything, so maybe he’ll get to hold on to it a while longer. Hey, his paycheck might be the lowest among the newly hired, but he has time to make a career, so. He really does love his job.

What he _hates_ , though, are faculty meetings. Especially the ones before the term’s opening. Especially because since he’s the one with the _nicest handwriting_ , or so people say, he’s stuck writing the report. And it doesn’t matter that it’s not the Middle Ages anymore and computers exist - the dean is _old fashioned_ and wants handwritten reports. And pissing Stannis Baratheon off isn’t anything Robb wants to risk, so he’s going to have to do it again today, and fuck but he’s so not looking forward to it. Especially for the first meeting of the academic year - his hand is going to hurt for the next month.

“Earth to Stark! What’s that face?”

“Ygritte, good morning to you, and I don’t want to know how are you so chipper when we have three hours of faculty meeting ahead of us.”

“Well, your brother knows how to make sure a girl gets to work in a good mood, if -”

“Don’t make me regret that I introduced the both of you, please.”

She laughs - yeah, he didn’t sound serious at all. Then again no, he entirely doesn’t regret introducing Jon to her - they had taken half of the same classes when getting their master’s, since after that she wanted to get a PhD in ancient philosophy and he was going for Roman history. They had subsequently gotten friendly after studying together for some hellish final about Saint Augustine they both didn’t care for, and Robb had gotten a feeling that Jon would have totally liked her, if he knew his brother well.

He entirely does not regret introducing them. He just wishes she’d stop discussing Jon’s apparently amazing skills at oral, damn it.

“As if. Anyway, did your Lannister brief you on the news?”

“What news?” The head of the history department, Jaime Lannister, is pretty much what anyone would sign up for a boss, honestly, but he has this certain tendency to forget emailing you about pretty much anything that isn’t extremely urgent. Ygritte, who’s under his brother Tyrion, keeps on swearing Robb that it’s a lot better to have a boss who doesn’t send e-mails that one who turns every damned department meeting into socratic debate.

“They finally found some poor soul for the history of cinema class. I mean, looks like Stannis hired him last week or so.”

“ _Really_? I thought that class was dead and buried.” Back when Robb enrolled back in the day, it was taught by professor Pycelle, who others in the class not so affectionately called _badly preserved mummy_. Robb had tried not to because damn it, his mother did teach him to respect his elders, but he could see the appeal. Anyway, according to Professor Pycelle, the only director that was worth teaching in film class was bloody Von Trier, and of course only people who had that class mandatory attended. After he retired a couple years later, no one stepped in since Pycelle hardly had any students ready to take his place, and with budget cuts and so on it wasn’t a priority to revive it.

“Well, our amazing and sage dean believes in teaching the arts also as long as he’s running this show. Also, apparently this year we’re not in the red anymore.”

“Really?”

“Electing him was a good idea. He’s certainly efficient. So he’s using the extra money to kickstart that class again. The new guy should be at the meeting. Aren’t you a bit more excited now?”

“Like hell. I still have to write the report.”

“It’s your fault for actually being able to write.”

“Fuck you, but thanks.”

At least they arrived at the room where the faculty meetings usually happen - good thing that at least it’s just the humanities or he’d be writing the report for the next month, probably. They’re also fairly early. It’s the two of them, Lannister, Brienne Tarth (head of the English Lit department) - and of course those two are having one of their ridiculous arguments that are just a front for unreleased sexual tension, the day they get it over half of the personnel will be relieved -, then there’s Margaery Tyrell who has the French lit class chatting with Nymeria Sand from the fashion department. Robb still doesn’t know why _fashion_ qualifies for the humanities faculty meeting, but he’s stopped asking himself that kind of question. Then there’s Melisandre from history of religions - fuck, Robb really isn’t looking forward to her asking for extra funds for her afternoon meditation course. Which she’s gonna do anyway even if they don’t pay her for it. Robb has seen students come out of it fairly disturbed at best and freaked out at worst - he’s never ever going to ask what happens in those courses. Hell no. Tyrion comes in a moment after Robb sits down. Professor Drogo from cultural anthropology is staring at the instant coffee machine as if he’d like to smash it - understandable, the coffee sucks majorly. There’s also professor Mormont who has both Greek and Latin classes - Stannis had both before becoming dean but he had to step down. Good thing he doesn’t detest his successor that much. They’re missing at least some ten people - surely Arianne Martell from gender studies is late, but she’s always late, so he doesn’t worry about that too much. Same as the dean’s brother - Rober Baratheon should teach English Lit and he’s apparently some genius when it comes to the Elizabethean period, but everyone is secretly very thankful that Brienne won out when they elected the department head. Then Bronn Robb-could-never-remember-the-surname-even-if-he-wrote-it-down-on-reports-for-ages who has music history class is also late. Along with Viserys Targaryen from Finn-Hungarian philology, and Robb really hopes he decides to skip the meeting or they’re going to be subjected to another long rant of why that specific class is underrated and underpaid. Same as his aunt Lysa who teaches contemporary history - Robb never said out loud that they were related and she kind of ignores his existence because she has a grudge with Robb’s mom. Good thing that. At least she isn’t here yet - hopefully she doesn’t show up at all.

Robb sighs, takes the form for the report from Lannister without even protesting and sits down, starting to fill it in - better that he fills in the date, name of the person writing it down and the participants now.

Which is why he kind of misses the exact moment the new film history teacher walks into the room. He’s writing down the list of participants when he hears someone introducing themselves to Mormont as Theon Greyjoy and wait, he doesn’t know anyone named like that, so it has to be the new guy, right? He puts down the pen and stands up, looking straight at the other side of the table, and -

Well, damn. Fact is, Robb usually does swing for women when it comes to finding people attractive, but he definitely does have a type as far as men goes. Theon Greyjoy, who is slightly taller than he is, has neatly cut dark hair long enough to touch his collarbone, eyes as dark as his hair, a face that could have tempted a few Reniassance painters into at least sketching it and a grin that exudes charm, is… exactly that type, as far as looks go.

Robb puts away the form and goes next to Ygritte, who’s introducing herself.

“Oh, and this is Robb,” she says, pretty much grabbing his arm and dragging him forward. “Future head of the history department, most probably.”

“Thanks, I could have introduced myself,” Robb sighs before looking at Theon again - damn, he really does have beautiful eyes. “Hey,” he says, extending a hand, “I’m Robb. Robb Stark. Welcome to the madness and good luck setting up that class again, by now it’s a urban legend.”

“Theon Greyjoy,” the other man introduces himself as he shakes Robb’s hand. He has gloves on - that’s weird, given that it’s still warm outside and it’s certainly not chilly on the inside, but now that Robb looks at them they’re nice gloves. Black, microfiber, very distinguished, they certainly match Theon’s black suit and white shirt. He has a black tie, too, slightly crooked. _Shit, he even has fashion sense_. Robb might really try to avoid looking as if he’s turning starstruck here. “It’s going to be interesting for sure,” he says. “But thanks. I always like a challenge.”

Then he winks before moving on to introduce himself to Margaery Tyrell.

Robb might be indecently attracted here. It’s not bloody fair.

“Am I wrong, or do you want to tap that?” Ygritte whispers in his ear as he goes back to his seat.

Correct that. Robb isn’t just attracted. Robb is also fucked majorly, if she can notice it after five minutes.

Fuck his life, really.

\--

The meeting goes fairly well, not counting that Robb has to stay longer because he has to write down properly everything he took notes on.

Which means that he _can’t_ go and ask Theon if he wants to go get a coffee to get acquainted with the place, because Margaery Tyrell does that first and he says yes with an easy smile.

Then they leave and Robb almost groans out loud.

“Aw,” Ygritte says, “sorry about that.”

“Fuck my life,” Robb sighs.

“Hey, you can ask him out for coffee another time. Margaery looks great after three dates and then unless she’s your type it’s nowhere as exciting.”

“How do you _know_ that?”

“I experimented during our bachelor’s, who do you take me for? Anyway, I have to go work on the class presentation. Good luck.”

“Yeah, thanks,” he answers halfheartedly, and then looks down at his form figuring that hey, if she’s right he’s going to have another chance at some point. He writes down the report, thinks about how Theon had long, slim fingers under those gloves that looked like a pianist’s, and tries to tell himself that he’s too old for reacting like a teenager in such a situation.

\--

After the meeting, he doesn’t manage to follow up on that proposal - he has to work on his class materials for the semester and of course a few of his students needing to graduate at the next session who are - thankfully - early send him four chapters’ worth of drafts, on top of the fact that he has an article on Caesar’s military tactics that he should publish sometime in the next five years, and he should at least try to figure out what to tell Lannister, who’s been asking him when he’s going to turn that in already for the entire summer.

He does see Margaery Tyrell flirting with Theon every time they’re at the bar in front of the university building. He’s really glad Ygritte is currently locked in the library working on her article about whatever it is that she seems to have figured out about some minor Epicurean philosopher based in Rome, because she usually goes with him for coffee and she’d make fun of him for the next ten years if she could see him glancing at those two with the face of someone who doesn’t appreciate.

Which is fucking ridiculous - he’s talked to the guy for about five seconds and Margaery got luckier than he did, he shouldn’t be getting worked up about it in any way whatsoever.

Still, he does glance at them while editing his article. They do flirt a lot, but then again Margaery tends to flirt with everyone, so it’s not really anything strange. What he notices is that sometimes she seems to be asking questions and he kind of - shrugs and obviously changes the topic?

Whatever. He’s probably seeing things and the diatribes about where exactly was that certain Gaul village located at that he has to quote in the damned article are making him too tired. That has to be it.

\--

Lessons start. Robb has a fairly large class this time - he’s only had the job for the last three years, but in between the fact that it’s a required one for half of the humanities classes, that he’s famous for being someone who doesn’t actively try to fail people and female students finding him attractive (which he knows because he once went on a Facebook group for the humanities students, and he swore that he never would again) he has managed to get a decent reputation. At least that. As usual, Ygritte complains about her boss grabbing more students than she does and she won’t hear that it’s because people would rather listen to witty lessons about Schopenhauer than to witty lessons about minor Hellenistic philosophers when they barely can read Greek anyway. Business as usual, after all.

Then he decides to ask around about film history.

Turns out that since it hasn’t been made obligatory in any of the new student plans - because they hired Theon too late for that - it’s maybe five people going. Given that they’re stuck in the worst classroom of the building always for the same reasons why it was closed in the first place - since no one went they had moved it to progressively worse rooms until it was canceled for good -, Robb kind of feels bad about it but it’s not like going to someone and telling them that hey, they’re sorry that they have all of five students this semester is a good idea to break the ice for good. Sure, they do wave at each other when their ways cross in the hallways or in the staff room, but that doesn’t really count.

“Hey,” Ygritte tells him a couple of weeks after lessons start, “you are aware that Margaery threw in the towel?”

“What?”

“According to her he’s a nice guy for a fling or so, but _it wasn’t going anywhere and you can only live so long on charm and wit if then you don’t share anything else._ ”

“Look at who’s talking. So what, he wasn’t caring and sharing enough for her standards?”

“Looks like it. So, is it time to make your move?”

“Ygritte, damn it, it sounds like I’m some kind of pervert here. I’m not _making moves_ , damn it.”

“Well, just do it before someone else thinks about it, how about it?”

Sometimes he wishes he could be as forward as she is. Instead he goes back to correcting a thesis draft he should email back within the next two days and thinks that it’s ridiculous to expect people to overshare every detail of their personal life when you just met.

\--

A couple of days later, he’s in front of the staff room’s coffee machine - he’d rather buy one from the usual shop or the cafeteria at worst but he has literally no time this morning and he needs some or he’s never going to get through an entire morning of receiving students among which at least three people he should supervise.

“Ah, fuck,” he groans when he notices that he has no spare change.

“Let me guess, you’re in dire need of fifty pence?”

Robb turns to his right - Theon’s standing there, looking amused at his plight and his sleep deprivation, most probably. He certainly looks well-rested.

“Yeah. I might have left the house without spare change.”

“Well, then it’s your lucky day.” Theon rummages in the pocket of his nice, stylish fake leather jacket and drops said fifty pence into Robb’s hand. “There you go.”

“Thanks, I’ll return that tomorrow if -”

“Stark, seriously? It’s not even a full pound, you can just buy the same for me next time,” Theon says, winks at him again and then heads back to the table to take back his things - he’s probably headed to class.

Robb pushes the money inside the slot, waits for his crappy coffee to be done and smiles slightly to himself. He’s _definitely_ going to make sure he doesn’t forget his change at home tomorrow.

\--

It sort of becomes a small ritual after that - not that they have much other contact, but from then on they meet in the staff room, about every morning, Theon always winks at him when he says hi, they buy each other coffee from the vending machine one day each. Robb does notice that Theon seems to always be wearing gloves and long sleeves and rarely takes off his jacket but never remarks on it.

He kind of feels bad when, a month and a half after that first teachers’ meeting, he realizes that Theon definitely _doesn’t_ have a finger on his left hand - the glove hangs weirdly, and it’s obvious that it’s because there’s empty space beneath it. Robb pretends he hasn’t paid attention to it, though, and hands Theon his coffee - he had paid this time.

“So, how are you settling in with the class?”

“Hey, it’s not that many of them but at least they’re willing to recognize Tarantino’s superiority over any contemporary director.”

“Right. What was it about, Tarantino and western themes?”

“Well, I thought it might be interesting and grab myself a few students. Instead I’m stuck in a building full of heathens. Who doesn’t come flocking when that’s the premise?”

Robb snorts, taking a sip from his frankly disgusting plastic cup of espresso - damn, he should beg the dean to actually change brand. “Idiots, but don’t worry, I’m sure half of my class would rather watch Uma Thurman cutting heads than reading about Caesar torching Gaul villages.”

“Now, _that_ ’s a movie he should make,” Theon agrees. “Well, this coffee’s shit.”

“I think about everyone agrees,” Robb sighs. “What, you want a Tarantino movie set in ancient Rome during some kind of war? Well, that’d be… interesting, I imagine.”

“It would be awesome, Stark. You don’t think big enough.”

“Are you quoting _Inception_ at me?”

“What? Nolan’s overrated and pretentious. That was all me.” Then he winks at Robb again. “Thanks for the coffee, but I have to show a few Bruce Lee selected scenes to the five valiant bastards in my class. See you around.”

“Sure,” Robb tells him as he leaves before drinking the rest of his coffee and decides that he really does like the man. Never mind his moment of instant attraction, he looks like an interesting person and hey, maybe they might be friends and he’d be plenty all right with that. 

\--

One week after they have that conversation, he walks into the staff room with his article draft to look at again - the library’s full, but no one will mind if he just does it here. He’s two pages in when Theon also walks in, and Nymeria Sand does a moment later. Robb waves at him and Theon waves back, but then Nymeria steps in and asks him how is the class going.

“Well, not the amazing resurrection one could have hoped for, but it could be worse. Could be that no one signed up for it.”

“That’s true,” Nymeria concedes. “Have anything exciting planned for the next semester?”

“I don’t know,” he replies slowly, “maybe erotic French film of the seventies would gain me some students?”

Well, this might be the first time anyone actually manages to out-innuendo Nymeria - Robb is frankly impressed. Same as she is - she smirks and takes a step forward, looking very much like someone who intends to win that specific battle. “Nice. Sounds like a good option.”

Then - well, Nymeria never was the most subtle of people, was she? She reaches forward, her hand basically brushing his, and at that he - kind of freezes and takes a step back. He’s still smiling, but it’s not reaching his eyes at all.

“I know. I’ll see what I can do, I guess. But I have a meeting with the dean now, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow. Will I?”

“You can bet on it,” she says, winking. He winks back in a way that would make anyone’s knees go weak, but Robb is fairly sure that he just hightailed out of here.

Maybe Nymeria needs to revisit her approach, Robb figures before he goes back to editing his article. It’s probably better for his own peace of mind.

\--

The next one who tries the flirting overtly with Theon is Myranda Royce, one of Margaery’s assistants - Robb is sure she has them at her fairly young age and without being head of the department just because her grandmother Olenna is some kind of pillar of the damned place over at the law faculty. Stannis downright hates her because she pulls strings all the time and she hates Stannis because he beat her at the last dean elections - Robb really hopes he manages to stay out of this kind of thing in the foreseeable future. Anyway, Myranda does try to pull a few moves on the guy while Robb’s in the staff room to see it.

It goes exactly as it had with both Margaery and Nymeria. Robb wonders why they haven’t realized yet that he’s obviously not the kind of person who goes all caring and sharing at the second date, but what does he know.

Meanwhile, midterm finals approach, he knows for sure that film history class isn’t getting any more students for the moment and he doesn’t lose too many along the way - good thing that. He keeps on buying Theon coffee every other day and viceversa and most times he wishes he could just get over himself and start a damned serious conversation or ask the guy out for a beer or something - that would be fairly normal for two men who just want to be friends, right?

God, it shows he hasn’t dated anyone since the Talisa fiasco in bachelor year and after his first longtime girlfriend Jeyne Westerling had to move on the other side of the world with her fairly terrible family back in high school. He’s way over in his head here.

\--

“Hey,” he asks Theon one morning in the staff room the week before midterm finals start, “Can I ask you something? Because uh, I might have had an idea. Concerning both our classes.” He came up with it while he was getting his first caffeine dose two days ago - it actually seemed like a cool thing that might get his already too bored students a bit more interested and that would make Theon possibly gain some more next semester. Can’t hurt to ask, for sure.

“Both of them? Sounds interesting. I’m all ears, Stark.”

“Well, maybe we could do a few joint class meetups or seminars? I mean, I’m sure there’s enough movies about ancient Rome to put together something nice and I could do with half of my class not being completely bored out of its mind.”

Theon stares at him for a moment with a fairly neutral expression. “That’s not a bad idea, but if you want to put _Gladiator_ into the list -”

“What? No!” Robb can’t help it - he has to interrupt. “Listen, there’s a limit to the historical inaccuracy I can expose my poor students to and _that_ is way beyond that bloody limit.”

“ _Good_ , otherwise I’d have stopped recognizing your existence.”

Robb can’t hold back the snort that leaves his mouth at that. “That bad?”

“I can’t honestly accept that the person who directed _Blade Runner_ was in charge of that ridiculousness and most people think that’s his best movie, okay? That said, was your class about the Gaul wars?”

“Pretty much. I’m doing the end of the republican era next semester if I don’t change my mind.”

“So no _Ben Hur_ , huh?”

“Maybe it’s too far along, yeah.”

“Don’t you worry, I think I can come up with something. How many movies were you thinking we should show?”

“If it’s a seminar - maybe three or four? It would occupy us for a month if it’s once per week.”

“Sounds reasonable. I guess that I might start thinking about it now since it’s not like I have a huge line outside my office these days.”

“I’m sure that in a couple of years that class will be back to its former glory, though - well, when Pycelle was teaching it it wasn’t exactly glorious. Maybe it was a bad comparison.”

“Don’t you worry, the thought is appreciated. I’ll let you know then.”

“Good. Mind that differently from you I actually have work during midterms, so there’s no hurry, but I guess I can give you my full attention after I survive the nightmare that will be the test next week.”

“Hey, some of us _want_ work actually, don’t look down on yours.”

“Yeah, well, last week someone had no idea that the Gaul wars _didn’t_ take place in the third century BC and they have been in that class since the beginning, do you envy me now?”

Theon, to his credit, looks downright pained at that. “Really?”

“Eh, there’s a good one every five bad apples, so.”

“You’re entirely too much of an optimist for your own good, but good luck. I’ll have a list ready for when you’ve finished grading your most probably horrid midterm papers.”

“It’s a deal then.”

Theon holds out his right hand and Robb shakes it - god, if only Theon stopped smirking in that ridiculously attractive way maybe Robb’s brain cells would start working properly all over again.

“Great,” Robb says, “anything I can do to help resurrect that class. But please never touch Von Trier or you’ll jinx it yourself.”

“I think _Nolan_ is pretentious, how do you assume I feel about the emperor of pretentious?”

“Good. Then you definitely won’t bring it to the grave the way the previous guy did.”

“Let’s hope. I kinda like it here, I’d hate to throw in the towel. Now wish me luck, I have to go before my students assume I’m not going in and skip on _The Great Silence_.”

“If they do they’re idiots, it was a great movie.”

“Huh.” Theon looks at him with something that… is maybe close to respect. “That has just gained you a lot of points, Stark. See you around.”

He turns and leaves - Robb’s free hand curls around his almost empty coffee cup and he tries to wipe the smile he most probably has fixed on his face. He eventually settles for finishing the fucking coffee - it’s so disgusting that it does the job for him.

He throws away the cup and then he turns to find himself staring into Margaery Tyrell’s eyes.

“Margaery,” he says politely. “Can I help you?”

He knows he _can’t_ , at least for academia-related matters. French Lit was never his strongest suit and she’s the one with the powerful grandmother.

“Just wondering,” she says, “how did you manage that?”

“What?”

“Shaking his hand unprompted. I had drinks with him for a week and some and not counting when we introduced we barely even touched.”

“I, uh, I didn’t do anything special? We were just discussing a joint class?”

“... You’re hopeless,” she tells him before turning her back and heading out, too.

 _What the hell_ , Robb thinks, but then decides that he can’t afford to get tangled in Tyrell’s drama, he’s been hanging here long enough that he knows it would be an atrocious idea, and heads back for his office. He still has to look again over his notes for today’s class and to check the surprise test he’s going to dump on them (he’s nice, but once in a while you have to be a dick or they get too relaxed) after all.

\--

Fifty graded papers and fifty surprise tests later, which translate into his entire weekend being dedicated to the dubious pleasure of actually reading and grading them, he comes back to work on Monday feeling like he could hibernate for the next month. He’s entirely not looking forward to give back both tests and papers to everyone, given that a good third of the class pretty much failed the test and wrote atrocious papers, but at least it’s only midterms. They have time for improvement.

Then he finds Ygritte inside his office.

“How did you get in?”

“Did you forget that you left spare keys also for your office at your brother’s and that I’m _dating_ your brother?”

“I’m really glad you didn’t decide to become some kind of supercriminal because I wouldn’t want to be the poor bastard trying to catch you. To what I owe the visit?”

“Since you deserted the staff room for the last week -”

“I actually work!”

“Hey, I also work. In the staff room. Anyway, you missed the gossip brigade being all about your new best friend.”

“... What the hell, wait a moment, Margaery’s probably behind whatever it is that you’re talking about, and it’s about - Theon? We’re not _best friends_ -”

“You buy each other coffee every other day, you might as well get there, but never mind. Yes, Margaery, Nymeria, Randa and whatshername, right, Taena Merryweather from the fashion department, looks like they all had a nice round of flirting with our new mysterious film history teacher and he was absolutely charming and witty but the moment they tried to bring it beyond flirting and asked where he came from or what he did before coming here he always deflected. And they never touched somehow.”

“Okay, and? You know that it’s kind of creepy? I mean, it’s his business?”

“Yeah, but everyone is envying you because somehow you’re the only person in the department he’s talked to regularly since he got here and it seems like they all find him fairly attractive.”

“No. No, you aren’t saying this.”

“I’m afraid I am.”

“Fuck my life, _seriously_? Don’t they have midterms to grade?”

“Robb, Margaery has already three wannabe graduate students doing it for her and then she’s lending them to her friends. You should find yourself some minions, too.”

“Do I see _you_ having any?”

“Do you see my class ever having more than twenty students, especially since they stuck me to master’s degree classes only?”

Fact is, she isn’t even wrong. She doesn’t have half as many students as he does, so she can handle it without spending one week just grading papers.

“Anyway, I just wanted to warn you. Check your coffee, you never know if they might poison you out of revenge.”

“How are you that giddy?”

“Oh, I just had four people on twenty completely failing the class for now, I think I have reasons to be giddy.”

“Okay, okay, I’ll give that to you. Can I have my keys back?”

“Sure. By the way, your new best friends says that when you want to check the movies he picked he’s downstairs in his office. As in, Pycelle’s former office.”

“And you tell me that _now_?”

Ygritte throws the keys at him - he catches them before they can hit the window and break the glass, thankfully, and leaves him there without answering. Christ, how does Jon even keep up with her, he has no clue, but whatever - now the question is, does he go now or does he wait?

The moment he asks himself said question, he realizes that it’s the kind of absolutely ridiculous thing no one over the age of seventeen should ask themselves when discussing people you’re attracted to, so he shakes his head, doesn’t take off his jacket, locks his office and heads for Pycelle’s old room. Admittedly, it’s a shitty office - given how the class had been going back when Robb was taking it, the classroom was in the basement area. Now, for _watching movies_ it wasn’t that much of a bad idea admittedly - less light to block out for one - but given that Pycelle’s office was on the opposite side of the hallway, that was hardly a perk. If Robb remembers right it was a small dark room where you couldn’t see shit if the light was turned off since there wasn’t even a proper window. He knocks on the door when he’s in front of it - damn, he hadn’t been down here in ages.

“Come in,” Theon says from the inside. Robb opens the door; the light is turned on, given there’s just an opening to allow the air to change rather than a proper window, and that’s how he sees at once that Theon’s actually improved the place noticeably. For one, the smell of mold is gone. The desk is clean and not as cluttered as Pycelle kept it, the old computer which was probably still running on a system from the late nineties is gone, replaced by what looks like a used but well-kept laptop. The bookshelves are actually filled with books that seem to relate to cinema history, not just old students’ thesis drafts and an indecent amount of photocopies that had invaded most of the shelves. There are even a few plants scattered around the area.

“Well, given that people used to call this office _Sauron’s lair_ when I was taking that class, I think you’re doing a terrific job with the place,” Robb tells him.

“Wow, does that mean it’s upgraded to hobbit hole now?”

“As far as I’m concerned, you just need the visible food to fully deserve that title. Admittedly, Sauron was a bit too much for poor Pycelle.”

“Not evil enough?”

“Nah. He was more of a Saruman at most, if you ask me. Anyway, Ygritte told me you wanted to see me?”

“I did. Also, you look like you need a very long break.”

“I spent the last week grading fifty papers and fifty surprise tests and differently from Margaery Tyrell, I have no minions to help me out.”

“Well, shit. Anyway, I was thinking, you said four movies for one month?”

“Yeah. I mean, I have two classes per week, you as well, I think we might just do one each week so the number of hours we use out of our own is even?”

“Sounds good. Well, first of all, if you tell me _Spartacus_ isn’t a good choice I’m not talking to you anymore.”

“Of course it is! Who do you take me for? Also hey, it’s more or less close to the timeframe I’m supposed to teach about, so. What else did you have?”

“Here.” Theon hands him a list with names, directors and plot description. Spartacus is the first, then there’s the _Julius Caesar_ with Marlon Brando, and both are listed as essential. Then there’s another three or four, so obviously he has a choice here - _Cabiria, A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum_ , the _Cleopatra_ with Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton and - _Duel of the Titans_?

“God, it really shows you like Tarantino.”

“What gave me out?”

“The trashy Italian movie from the sixties, that’s what gave you out.”

“First, you recognized it. Second, it’s not just trash, it’s high class trash! You can’t just show them technically good stuff, you know. And I only put _Cleopatra_ in there because it’s huge but please tell me you don’t want to show them that many inaccuracies.”

Robb can’t keep the smirk in. “Well, you already chose the two serious ones. I guess they can have fun with the other two. Let’s go with the high class trash and _A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum_ , at least they won’t get bored.”

“Sounds good. You know, I might have lost some respect for you if you chose the historical inaccuracies.”

“Wow, so you actually respect me?”

Theon laughs, taking back the list. “I just might. For now. So, when do we do it?”

“The month before Christmas vacations? They’d have it fresh in their mind when they inevitably have to sign up for the next semester in January.”

“Wait, are you planning this -”

“Also so that you get more students? Well, yeah, wouldn’t have much sense otherwise.”

Theon looks at him _weird_ then, as if he can’t quite figure that sentiment out. “Why, thanks. But there’s no need - I mean if it’s a problem for you -”

“It’s not. And until your class isn’t put in the study plans you only get students if they sign up voluntarily, and given how packed their schedules are you might end up with another five for the rest of the year. Which is fairly shitty - I know that - so why shouldn’t I help you out? It’s not like it causes me problems or anything.”

“... Well, thanks then. Really, it’s - appreciated. Fine then. Do we keep the classy trash for last?”

“Maybe we should,” Robb agrees. Theon sends a small grin his way that’s not as charming and well-practiced as the ones he usually gives, but - Robb thinks - it’s… actually even nicer. Maybe because it’s more natural, he thinks, but it really doesn’t matter - it’s lovely anyway.

\--

A few things happen before they start their joint classes.

Sure, the students are fairly happy - at least Robb’s, because of course they’d rather have a movie over reading Caesar’s _Commentaries on the Gallic War_ -, but that’s not what’s relevant in the great scheme of things. First, the dean calls in the both of them and thoroughly approves of the project and of the _Julius Caesar_ choice - god, who knew Stannis Baratheon was a closeted Marlon Brando admirer? -, which is definitely a good thing.

Then, Margaery Tyrell keeps on sending him weird looks whenever they run into each other - Robb ignores them and keeps on behaving as usual around her, as in, politely. It’s not as if they ever even interacted much so he’s generally baffled by this development, but whatever works for her.

Then, there’s a faculty dinner for the whole lot of the humanities and languages departments and most of them go - he ends up seated between Ygritte and Nymeria, and he’s fairly thankful he ended up with Ygritte in the first place given that Nymeria also sends him those same weird looks as Margaery did, and keeps on gossiping with Taena Merryweather. What he does notice, though, is that Theon is on the other side of the table, next to Barbrey Dustin from the French Lit department - Robb doesn’t envy him. That woman can be fairly invasive when she wants to and given that she’s the head of her department you can’t avoid her. Back when he ended up next to her once, she wouldn’t let him eat in peace at least until she knew how many siblings he had and what did his parents do for a living now, and all of that because she had a fling with Robb’s uncle once upon a time, most probably.

Theon’s fairly polite and charming to her throughout, but Robb can pinpoint most of the moments when he tries to not answer her fairly personal questions - by the time they’re done with the first course and Theon is obviously this close to tell her to sod off, Robb stands up, says that he’ll go for a walk before second courses arrive and maybe Theon would like to come so they can discuss the seminary?

Theon follows after shooting him a fairly grateful look.

“Thanks for the save,” he says as they step outside the restaurant. “I was feeling suffocated.”

“Eh, she can be - fairly terrible,” Robb agrees. “Just tell her to go fuck herself if she doesn’t quit, she did the same with Stannis years ago so he’s not going to fire you for that.”

“I’d like to have some quiet living instead of starting possible feuds though,” Theon says. “Shit, too bad I quit smoking, it would have been great for the nerves now. Ah well, I’ll have to deal.”

“Do you want to switch places? Ygritte is a lot better company.”

“Nah, thank you. I’ve been through worse than Mrs. Dustin, I can handle her.”

They go back in not long later, figuring that it’d be rude not to. And that’s when that last statement is put to test.

“I was wondering,” Barbery asks, Robb can hear her fairly well from where he is. “I thought your surname sounded familiar.”

“Really,” Theon sighs.

“I mean, I knew a Balon Greyjoy back in the day, wasn’t he the head of the marine sciences department back in Belfast? I’m sure I had a class with him when I was there for a master’s back in the day -”

“ _Maybe_ , but I haven’t spoken with my dad in years and that’s fairly fine with me.”

“Really? He seemed like such a nice man. Very distinguished.”

Robb can see that Theon’s about to punch her in the face and that she’s eyeing down his hands - still gloved, obviously.

“Barbery, how about I come over there? Last time that my uncle visited he asked about you.” Robb is going to hate himself for this, especially since it’s entirely not true that Uncle Brandon even mentioned his former high school sweetheart when he came to visit, but she doesn’t have to know that, does she?

When he switches places, Theon whispers him a _thanks_ that no one else probably hears and Robb decides that coming up with a likely story that might get her distracted from the novelty for the next half hour can’t be too bad or too complicated.

\--

The first joint class is supposed to be on the next day - Robb’s late for it, of course, but given all the wine he had ingested to get through another hour of Barbrey’s nagging he thinks his hangover was justified.

So he gets there looking barely presentable, though he thinks he had enough coffee to not look completely unprofessional, and - Theon’s waiting for him outside his classroom’s door?

“Sorry for the lateness,” Robb starts, “it’s been a -”

“No, don’t,” Theon interrupts him. “I know why was that and I saw you get through half a bottle of wine, I can imagine. Thanks for that, really. I mean, er, my dad’s a sore subject.”

“I gathered. But I mean, it’s fine. I handled her for a long time, I could do it. Really, it’s fine.”

“Well, thanks anyway. So, are we showing them a masterpiece of what?”

They’re starting with Spartacus - they figured showing the longest one first was a better idea.

“Sure. Let’s just hope they don’t realize how many aspirins I had to take to look presentable this morning.”

Thankfully, no one does realize that. Also, for absolutely not having rehearsed that lesson, they manage to introduce the topic and everything fairly well, and then at least he has three hourse and some of movie during which he can just sit down, make sure no one is texting underneath the desk instead of watching it and just, not talk. For some kind of miracle the students are actually engrossed so they don’t have to go and tell them to shut off their cellphones - halfway through, when he sees Theon presenting him his right hand curled in a fist, Robb smirks, does the same and bumps it against Theon’s.

He doesn’t want to say for sure that it looks like they really could be good friends for one, but at the same time he definitely has the feeling and it’s entirely fine as far as he’s concerned.

\--

They do actually rehearse the introduction to _Julius Caesar_ , though for that one Robb just tells Theon to come to his office, at least there’s a window, and by the time they’re done Robb thinks they have a fairly winning bullet points list - it’s a fun introduction, at least. And given the movie subject a fun intro was definitely needed. Thing is - Theon is also so ridiculously good at what he does, Robb is kind of overwhelmed here. He knows his cinema history way too well and it shows, never mind that he knows how to write a movie presentation card, but he doesn’t sound half as pretentious or full of himself as most people in the field Robb has met. Robb tells him, figuring that he can’t take it badly - Theon doesn’t.

“Well,” he says as he laughs, “it’s a very fascinating subject and all the likes, but a lot of people in this field tend to forget that the world actually can live without our expertise. And people can watch movies without understanding shit about the fine craft. The moment you come to terms with it your life is a lot easier and people tend to stop thinking you’re some kind of pretentious wanker. I mean, that’s why Tarantino isn’t pretentious anyway, at least he admits he likes trash movies from the sixties.”

“Sounds legitimate,” Robb agrees as he prints out the presentation cards. “Well, let’s hope that when we actually quiz them on this they don’t disappoint us.”

“Nah. You have nice students. Mine are fucking hopeless. Can you believe that two on five didn’t like _Reservoir Dogs_ because it was _too violent_? And they signed up for that class voluntarily. Please lend me yours.”

“Maybe some will come next semester, don’t fear.”

“Let’s hope,” Theon agrees, though he doesn’t sound too convinced for a moment or two. Then he perks back up again and jokes about making next semester just Brando movies if it means he gets some students who just want to stare at his ass because he was really hot back in the day.

Robb says he can’t disagree with that notion and nothing else happens, but Theon doesn’t look particularly shocked at the prospect of Robb possibly appreciating a backside belonging to a guy and not a woman. Not that Robb is even thinking about his raging attraction of the first couple of days by now - he likes spending time with the man and he couldn’t care less about it going in any other direction even if he certainly wouldn’t say no - but still, not bad to know, he figures.

\--

The second movie is, indeed, another success. Same as the third - they decided to go for the high class trash and people apparently find it hilarious along with their introduction, and a few of them tell Theon that if he considers putting more _high quality trash_ in his class next semester they might think about joining even if they don’t technically have cinema history in their schedule. Theon looks fairly pleased at that and Robb absolutely doesn’t refrain from going _I told you so_ at him later.

The fourth one is even bigger because when he tells Ygritte what they’re planning on watching she tells him that maybe her students could benefit from it as well and they end up dragging her class into it as well - and he’s fairly sure that most of their audience laughs for the movie itself as much as they do for Theon and Ygritte’s jabs in the presentation. By the time it’s over and they’re sure that everyone has understood that they have to turn in a paper about any topic they like as long as it concerns those movies and Roman history or literature somewhat for when Christmas vacations are over, Robb is so giddy about the joint classes thing having worked out so well that he finally gets over himself and his dumbass pining, as Ygritte called it.

“Hey,” he tells Theon as the students clear out, “I was wondering, maybe we could have lunch together to celebrate? Not today if you can’t -”

“I think I could,” Theon interrupts him. “Never mind that we’re all on vacation next week, sounds like we can afford to celebrate both. And if you actually get me some ten extra students I’m paying for another lunch after finals.”

“Hey, there’s absolutely no need for that, but who am I to say no to free food. There’s a fairly decent Chinese nearby, I swear I ate there some ten times and never got sick.”

“That’s good enough, I guess. I’ll just grab a couple things from my hobbit hole and then I’m good to go.”

“Great. Well, I could come with you, at least I wouldn’t be waiting here - if some students decides they want to talk we’ll have lunch three days from now.”

They head for the basement, and everything’s good until Robb notices that there’s someone in front of the door. For a moment he tries to guess if it might be a student but - well, it’s a man in his mid-twenties so he could be, but it’s definitely not one of his. The guy has fair hair and actually looks younger than twenty-five now that Robb pays attention. Surely he likes to wear a lot of leather.

Theon looks at him when he turns towards the both of them and he suddenly goes rigid as a block of ice - Robb can feel the tension coming from his left side, and when he looks at Theon… well, damn it, he has never seen him looking at someone with such contempt up until now.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Theon asks without preambles.

“Why, harsh,” the other guy says. “Not even saying hi now?”

“Damon, you piece of shit, I have absolutely no fucking reason to say hi to you or anything else. Say what you came here for and leave already.”

“Fair enough. _He_ wants to see you.”

“ _What_?” That wasn’t said with contempt. That was just - spiteful. Robb is starting to feel really uncomfortable here, but nowhere as much as Theon looks.

“Well, he’s having therapy, where _he_ is. Looks like his therapist is adamant on this specific point. He wants to apologize -”

Theon takes a couple of steps forward until he’s facing the guy - Robb can see that he his left hand is trembling but he shoves it inside his trousers’ pocket a moment later.

“Okay, listen, I’m going to say this once. That piece of shit about ruined my life or at least tried, and it took me long enough to get back on track. His therapist wants him to apologize? Guess he hasn’t talked to the _five_ I had to go through before I found the right one. I don’t give a fuck that he might want to, also because if I know him he’s probably lying to the poor bastard who got saddled with him and he just jumped on an excuse to see me again and fucking with me all over again. I’m done with him. I don’t care about whatever he feels about it and even if he meant it I sure as fuck don’t want his apologies. Next time I see you or anyone else he might have sent to ask me to see him, I’m getting a restraining order. Got it?”

“Isn’t that a little harsh -”

“ _Got it_?”

“Okay, okay, you’re angry, got it, but if you change your mind -”

Robb thinks he’s had enough. “Whatever this is about it doesn’t look like he is, so how about you leave before I call the head of security and get you kicked out? He also did some time in jail for unfair reasons if you ask me, he can _definitely_ make sure you feel the consequences without you being able to sue him. So?”

The guy - was his name Damon? - stares at Robb for a moment, then obviously admits defeat and raises up his hands.

“All right, all right. If you change your mind -”

“Fuck off,” Theon cuts him. The guy doesn’t push it and hurries back upstairs - the moment he’s out of sight Theon lets out a breath that he had been holding for a while from the sound of it. Then he takes his hands out of his trousers’ pockets and fuck, they’re shaking wildly.

“Damn it,” he whispers when the office key he had in his fingers falls to the ground. “Damn -”

“I’ll get it,” Robb says, taking it and opening the door. “Come on, I think you need to sit down.”

“Yeah, I think I do. Fuck, I’m sorry, that -”

“You don’t have to explain anything, just - sit down, okay? You look like you’re going to faint.”

“I fucking might.” He drops down sitting on the first chair, taking heavy breaths again, but it doesn’t seem to be working - they’re all irregular and he does look like he’s going to hyperventilate.

“Hey,” Robb says as he grabs the only other chair in the room and sits down next to him, “I - uh, can I?” His hand is hovering just above Theon’s right wrist. “I think I know what - I have some experience.” Or at least, if this is a panic attack, and it looks like the start of one, then he does.

“Uh, yes, but don’t worry, I can -”

Robb just touches his wrist firmly but without holding on too much.

“Okay. Hey, it’s okay, just take a breath now while I do it. One is good.”

He does it once, then again and Theon does follow at the second part. “Great. Another one?”

He manages to get as far as ten - by then Theon is breathing somewhat regularly but he still looks completely way over in his head, and -

Wait a moment.

“Fine. You’re doing great. Now how about - uh, tell me Kubrick’s entire filmography in order of release?”

“Damn, you’re - shit, okay, wait, _Fear and Desire_ , _The Killing_ , _Paths of Glory_ , _Spartacus_ , _Lolita_ , _Dr. Strangelove_ , 2001, _A Clockwork Orange_ , Barry Lyndon, _Full_ \- no wait, _The Shining_ , _Full Metal Jacket_ and _Eyes Wide Shut_.”

“Awesome. Now tell me in the reverse order? Take a breath before. Come on, you’re doing great.”

“Yeah, you say - okay. Okay, _Eyes Wide Shut, Full Metal Jacket, The Shining_...”

He does eventually say it completely and he looks fairly less twitchy, but Robb still doesn’t move his hand just in case.

“Great. Is it any better?”

“Somewhat.” He breathes in again, then out, then in - it’s definitely less irregular than before. “Damn, do you have another of those lists?”

Robb makes him go through the _Kill Bill_ and _Inglorious Basterds_ casts in the order listed in the credits before Theon takes another deep breath and tells him he’s more or less good. Robb moves away his hand just in case he’s overstepping boundaries.

“Well, fuck, that wasn’t dignified,” Theon says a moment later.

“Seriously? Come on, it was - what it was, but certainly nothing undignified, all right?”

“Yeah, and actually, how did you know - I mean, you don’t have to answer if -”

“It’s okay,” Robb cuts him. “Well, uh, my brother - technically he’s my cousin, but - let’s say that he came to live with us when he was five or six and he had grown up with a certified psychopath for a grandfather before, so it happened that he might go into a panic out of nowhere for a few years. My parents had me learn a few pointers since we spent most of the time together. Then my sister had a, uh, fairly terrible relationship with this asshole in high school and we hadn’t realized how shitty he was until it was obvious and well, she had a rough year.”

“Sorry about that. I hope they’re doing good?”

“Totally, don’t worry. Hasn’t happened in years for either of them, but that was how I knew. Listen, maybe we should just call some take-away and order in? You don’t look much up for a restaurant and I can only understand it.”

Theon looks at him for the first time since this started and shakes his head. “I have a better idea,” he says. “Do you have to be here in the afternoon?”

“Not really,” Robb says. “Why?”

“I live some ten blocks away. I can make us lunch.”

“Wait, really?”

“Yeah, sure thing. Don’t worry, I don’t poison my food. That is, if -”

“Of course,” Robb says quickly. “I mean, if you feel up for it -”

“Actually it calms me down for some fucking reason so I definitely feel up for it.”

“Well then, whenever you feel like going.”

Theon nods at him, grabs his laptop and throws it inside his bag along with a few other papers, then he tells Robb he’s good to go. They lock up the office and Robb follows Theon out - he does indeed live five minutes from the university building. It’s fairly old but well-kept, Robb thinks as they go up the stairs to the second floor - there’s no elevator.

“Home sweet home,” Theon says as he opens the door. “Just drop your stuff wherever.”

Robb puts his bag and coat on the nearest chair and takes a look around - it’s _nice_. It looks like a bilocal - they’re in what looks like a living room, there’s a locked door that might be a bedroom in front of him, then there’s a kitchen on his right and a bathroom on his left. The furniture it’s all obviously Ikea, but it’s also newly bought or so it seems. The bookshelves are overflowing with dvds and cinema books, of course, except -

“Wow, you still have a VHS player?” Robb asks, eyeing the bookshelves housing quite a number of said tapes and the television in front of the sky blue sofa on the side of the living room opposite the kitchen.

“‘Course I do, I couldn’t quite get rid of it. And I do have some movies that I couldn’t find on dvd yet. Anyway, is salmon all right with you? I didn’t have much time to shop lately -”

“Sure, I eat about everything.”

“Fine. Then knock yourself out, I’ll be there in thirty.”

Robb doesn’t know how Theon manages to come out with orange glazed salmon in pretty much that amount of time - hell, it’d have taken him three hours to burn it, most probably. He insists on setting the table - there’s a small one in the living room.

“Damn,” Robb says after taking the first bite, “this beats the Chinese place completely.”

“Why, thank you,” Theon replies, looking fairly smug - and it’s a way better look on him than what he’s seen in the previous three hours. “That’s nice to know. Then again, I, uh, had practice.”

“You can taste it,” Robb agrees, not asking for clarifications before he cuts off another piece.

“Every time I say that people usually ask me what I mean,” Theon says slowly after Robb hasn’t talked for the next minute or so.

“Given that you spent months without caring and sharing and given what I’ve seen before,” Robb replies, “I don’t think you particularly want to talk about it. I mean, if you want to tell me I’ll listen, but you don’t have to.”

“Well, no offense but your workplace doesn’t - I mean, most people who looked interested looked like they’d share with their friends two days later at most.”

“You’re not entirely wrong there.”

“I have a feeling you wouldn’t.”

“I hate gossip. And don’t worry, the only person in there I’m actually friends with is Ygritte and she despises it more than I do.”

“That’s comforting.” He eats some more salmon, and then he breathes in again and puts the fork down on the plate. “See, it’s not that I’m dying from wanting to say it out loud, but - ah, fuck, this is embarrassing.”

“I’m - listening?”

“Let’s just finish eating first. Not that I feel like it, but I have to. I’ll explain you later.”

Robb doesn’t question it and finishes his very much delicious salmon, then insists to wash the dishes and then ends up joining Theon on the blue Ikea sofa.

“Right. I’m all ears. So?”

“Fuck. This is embarrassing. But - let’s talk hypothetically.”

“Fine. What’s the deal?”

“The deal is that I might _like_ you.” There’s a certain stress on the word _like_ , and Robb doesn’t want to jump to conclusions, but -

“You like me as in -”

“I might like you in not exactly friendly terms. And I think that unless I received mixed signals -”

“Not the case,” Robb interrupts, and then he wants the ground to swallow him whole. Congratulations, now he really has thoroughly embarrassed himself -

Theon actually laughs and he looks a bit less worried as he moves on. “Well, good to know. Still, very much hypothetically, given that we’re both on the same page - well, you heard the entire discussion before.”

“I did, but it’s not -”

“No, it is, because while I might not like it, I do come with a shitload of baggage and I’d never ask anyone to actually have anything to do with me in that sense if the cards aren’t on the table, and it’s - I have to tell you. You’ll get why when I do.”

“Fine,” Robb agrees. “Tell me. But I don’t get discouraged easily.”

“We’ll see.” Theon takes another deep breath and doesn’t quite look at him as he starts talking again. “So, you remember when Barbrey Dustin was singing my father’s praises back at that lunch?”

“How could I forget?”

“Yeah, well, my father might have been a distinguished gentleman to her, but he - he’s a complete fucking asshole. Was then, is now. You know the kind of person who already has your life planned out before you’re born?”

“I might have met a few. Did he decide you had a career in biology?”

“He decided that my two brothers had to. Given that he basically rigged things so that they’d get hired at his same university and that they didn’t have to work for that interview at all, they were only too happy. My sister was the only one who actually had any fucking talent - she’s like, an actual biologist. As in, she spends most of her time on boats or in labs, not teaching when she barely even knows what she’s talking about. Then it came down to me. Too bad I liked arts.”

“I imagine your father wasn’t a fan of that prospect?”

“Are you insane? He didn’t throw me out of the house when I told him I wanted to go to drama school just because my mother didn’t let him. Anyway, I went, and it was all good until I met - _him_.”

It’s said with such spite, Robb thinks it can only be one person.

“ _Him_ as in, whoever was that person who wanted to apologize to you today?”

“Exactly. It was - bad. I didn’t know anyone - also after three months I just found a part time job and moved out because I couldn’t take my father anymore, so I was pretty much - on my own, I guess. He was - older, had friends among which that asshole who dropped by before and at the beginning he was all friendly and the likes. They _all_ were friendly. Given that I wasn’t really that great at friendships in the first place - I mean, I did hang out with some people in high school and I never had issues getting laid, but I’ve never really had a best friend and all that shit, so I was kind of over in my head there.”

“Well, that sounds - fairly reasonable to me? I mean, it’s normal that you’d be?”

“Yeah, well, worst idea of the century. Never mind that my grades started going down progressively the more I hung out with them, at some point we got involved and in between that, school and work I couldn’t balance everything. So I moved in with him - I didn’t exactly have to work anymore, right?”

“Right. And?”

Theon glances down at his still gloved hands and raises the left one. “Noticed that there isn’t a finger there?”

“I did, but - wait. No. You aren’t saying that -”

“Wasn’t even the worst thing. There’s a reason why I always have long sleeves on, Stark. No amount of decent therapists I could talk to has managed to convince me not to. I was about twenty when it started for real.”

“How - how long?”

Theon takes a fairly unsteady breath. “Four years.”

“What?”

“Yeah. Not the best of my life for sure. He - well. By a certain point he didn’t even use my name anymore.”

“ _Excuse me_?”

“Let’s just say that it was sick. I don’t even - there were a few moments where I considered jumping off the damned window and ending it, except that he didn’t live high enough for that, at most I’d have broken a fucking leg. Anyway, he - well, I still called my parents. More or less. He let me once in a while so they wouldn’t get worried. There was an entire story I fed them to justify that I wasn’t in uni anymore and the likes - obviously my father didn’t even want to talk to me since he knew I was in a relationship with a guy and heaven forbid anyone related to him might like both men and women. One of those calls ended up being in a - fairly bad moment. I - might have broken down crying when talking to my mom. Next thing I know, three weeks after my sister shows up at the door and drags me out, thank fuck she didn’t listen to me while she was doing it.”

Robb thinks he might vomit, and he hasn’t even heard the details.

“Anyway. I pressed charges. He’s not - he’s definitely not getting out anytime soon, but since his father hired him a good lawyer that convinced judge, jury and magistrates that fucking Ramsay wasn’t entirely mentally stable, he got a free psychiatrist for his time in jail. As if - he’s probably playing all of them. He’s been there since. I spent six months feeling sorry for myself and watching movies all fucking day long because at least I was distracting myself and it was the perfect way to avoid thinking about it. Then my sister went and said that since I pretty much was turning into a movie history encyclopedia I might as well turn into a bloody degree. That happened when I found the decent therapist, so - it worked out. I applied at your charming uni because your dean really seemed desperate and didn’t mind getting someone who just got their PhD and was a TA for six months basically and it worked out, so I caught the chance and moved here. I figured a change of scenery might have helped.”

“Did it?”

“Oh, it did. Up until that son of a bitch who knew what Ramsay was doing and didn’t even try stopping him once showed up, but that’s not the point. The point is that I spent the last six years of my life trying to get over that piece of shit. I like to think I got over him eventually.”

“Hey, given how you scared his friend off before, you seemed fairly over it to me.”

“Yeah, it was fucking terrifying. Anyway,” Theon says, and then looks up at him for the first time since he started talking, “I haven’t been in any kind of relationship for that long. And I wasn’t going to try it with people I couldn’t trust or didn’t like enough. What I’m telling you is that I _like_ you and I’d be more than fucking willing to try if you want to. Before you ask, I wouldn’t have put a move on you if I thought I couldn’t handle it. But I also know that what I just said is a lot to take in and I’d never ask anyone to - well, go for it with me if they didn’t feel like they wanted that kind of baggage. And you seem like the kind of person who’d just tell me straight, so - just do it. If you don’t want to no hard feelings, really, but -”

Robb doesn’t let him finish and just - he goes for it and wraps his fingers around Theon’s left hand - it was resting in the middle of the space between them on the sofa.

“I think,” he says, “that I _like_ you as well and if you want to go for it, I don’t think any of that will be what makes me change my mind.”

He takes another deep breath. “I mean, thanks for the warning, but if I like someone I don’t judge them over their supposed baggage. Never mind that - seriously, if it wasn’t for what happened this morning I wouldn’t have even suspected that you had... baggage like that. I’m kind of awed, actually.”

“What?”

“Hey, you’re actually telling me that and you’re trusting me with it, I’m flattered here. Okay?”

“Now that’s excessive,” Theon says, but his voice is kind of trembling. “So - wait, really?”

“Want me to show you?” Robb asks, keeping his voice low. Theon stares at him, licks his lips and then -

“Show me,” he says, and he sounds half excited and half apprehensive, and Robb can understand why.

Well then. He’s going to just have to prove how serious he is about this.

He moves forward slowly and he makes sure to telegraph his moves, but when his mouth is just next to Theon’s he doesn’t get reactions other than a tiny nod, and so he goes for it and kisses the man already. 

While the temptation to just make out savagely is there, he doesn’t fall for it. He makes sure it’s obvious that he means it, but he doesn’t press overtly much until Theon sighs and parts his lips ever so slightly. He moves a hand behind Theon’s head, angling it better as he runs his tongue over Theon’s bottom lip, and he grips a bit harder when Theon’s tongue meets his - _then_ he pushes slightly just when he knows Theon’s on board with it and then it goes from tentative pushing to the savage making out he hadn’t opted for in the beginning. Theon’s hands are suddenly on his shirt and he’s moving forward - Robb grabs back at Theon’s jacket and drags him upwards. He’s ended up all over Robb a moment later, his legs around Robb’s thighs as they keep on kissing like two starved teenagers - _fuck, how much pent-up tension did they have to release, now that’s a question he’ll ponder a lot_. When he moves away because he has to breathe, he takes a look at Theon - his cheeks are flushed and his eyes are wide and he’s smiling tentatively, and Robb thinks he can’t breathe properly.

“Damn,” Theon says, “that - that was beyond my expectations.”

“Should I defy them again?” 

“Maybe,” Theon says. “How about you give it a try?”

Robb smirks and drags him in again, and this time he doesn’t hold back at all.

\--

“Fuck, you can kiss,” Theon says a while later, after they have savagely made out for who knows how long at this point, his gloved hand cupping the side of Robb’s face.

“I try to not disappoint,” Robb says, unable to keep himself from grinning openly. Then Theon moves just slightly and _now_ Robb can feel his cock against his leg, and - well, fuck. Robb isn’t the only one who’s about to start feeling pained because of this.

He can feel that Theon’s as interested as Robb is. At the very least. The moment they both realize, he’s sure the both of them also flush red - after all, Theon’s leg is also brushing against Robb’s crotch and there’s no way he isn’t noticing.

“Hey,” Robb says, “we don’t have to -”

“What if I tell you that it’s been years and I kind of want to? Don’t worry, I thought about it. And I used to enjoy it before - I’d like to do it again, damn it.”

“Just if you’re sure,” Robb says, his hands going towards Theon’s face, touching the sides. “If you are -”

Theon moves away, stands up and holds a hand out. Robb grabs it and follows him into the bedroom - there’s a large bed in the middle, the walls are covered in movie posters when it’s not in bookshelves. The bed also looks like it’s straight out of Ikea - it’s all white wood with a burgundy cover but given that the bookshelves are also white it makes a fairly nice contrast. God, this entire house is put together with a certain taste, Robb can’t help noticing even if it’s the worst moment for it most probably.

Which is why he stops glancing at his surroundings and looks at Theon instead, who’s - standing next to him, hands on his elbows.

“You have a nice house,” Robb says, breaking the ice before it can turn awkward, “but I don’t think that’s what you’d like me to do now, is it?”

“No, but it’s appreciated. Well then, time to get over myself.” Then Theon takes a deep breath and puts his hands in between the two of them. “You can take them off,” he says, his voice low but steady. “You can, all right?”

Robb doesn’t ask if he’s sure because he sounded like he was and he’s not going to be the person who second-guesses everything if Theon seems sure about it, and he does.

He goes for the right hand first - the top has a fairly ugly scar that looks like came out of some kind of burn, but at the same time Robb doesn’t think he’s seen nails as cured in his entire life. He runs his thumb over the first scar delicately - maybe it still hurts, no reason to -

“No need to be that worried,” Theon says, and he sounds like he wants to lighten up the situation but at the same time his tone isn’t exactly projecting calmness. “I have no feeling there anyway.”

Robb decides he’ll take that in stride. “So it doesn’t hurt if I do this?” He wraps his fingers around the palm, slowly, until they close over the top.

“No. It - it doesn’t.”

“Good.”

Then he reaches out with the other hand and takes out the glove covering Theon’s left hand. And at that - Christ, that one’s worse. Never mind the missing finger, he can see that there are scars around the nails as if they have been all torn off at some point and there’s a certain pattern over the top that makes Robb think, _did someone actually tear skin off in the first place,_ but he doesn’t ask. The nails are always filed and clean and pristinely kept, though.

Theon is looking at him as if he’s expecting him to bolt.

“Listen, I know it might be a mood killer,” Robb says instead, “but if I introduce you and my sister would you consider giving her tips to take care of your nails? Because she complains endlessly about how terrible she is at it. She’s love some pointers, I think.”

That was obviously not what Theon had expected.

“That’s all you have to say?”

“That’s everything relevant I have to say, yes,” Robb confirms as he wraps his other hand around Theon’s left. It’s a bit awkward given the missing finger, but he’ll find a way that isn’t, if he has enough time.

Given that Theon’s gone from apprehensive to somewhat pleased Robb figures he’s not fucking it up yet.

“Why,” Theon chokes out, “you might have passed two thirds of the test.”

“Oh, I didn’t know I had the three standard quests to go through.”

“Guess you’re enough of a knight in shining armor for that. Fine. You only have one left before you can claim your prize, if you still want it.”

Robb can recognize the whole ‘let’s turn this into bad humor’ approach for what it is so he just lets Theon’s hands go and takes a step behind. “Okay. How does my last quest work?”

Theon shrugs, pushing his shoulders outward for a moment.

“Wait, so _I_ can -”

“If you want to.”

Robb doesn’t even question it - he knows it must have taken a lot to ask such a thing, and so he moves close again. First he slides each button of Theon’s shirt open slowly, then hooks his thumbs into the lapels, nods at Theon and just pushes it off along with the jacket, letting it fall too the ground.

For a moment, when he looks at what he just uncovered, he has to quench down an automatic murderous instinct, because what do you even feel like when you’re in front of - shit, now he understands why Theon goes around with long sleeves. If you look at his arms it’s obvious that someone has stripped off a few pieces of skin at some point, never mind that there are some intricate tattoos covering a lot of said exposed skin. When Robb brushes his fingertips over a couple, he can feel why the patterns are random - they’re all covering knife scars. The same isn’t valid for his chest - he can just see the plain scars there. And then at some point Theon takes a deep breath and turns so that Robb can see his back.

Christ, he can see fucking whip marks on there.

He stares for maybe more time than was warranted because he can just see Theon go tense again, so he puts his hands on Theon’s shoulders as gently as he can and lines up behind him.

He kind of wants to find a way that’s not completely lame to say _that doesn’t really matter and right now I’m just thinking about the amount of work it must have taken to get back to a halfway decent shape after something like this_ , never mind that here it’s beyond halfway decent. It’s _healthy_ , and he’d really like to say all of that but he has this feeling it’s not just the place or time for that kind of conversation.

Instead, he puts an arm around Theon’s waist, slow, and without pulling his back against Robb’s chest, eve if he’s tempted.

“Two things,” he says. “First, if it counts as passing my test, I’d like to claim my prize. Second, I think it goes both ways, so if you’d like to, you’re welcome.”

Theon relaxes slightly before turning towards him - Robb doesn’t know what he had been expecting but are his eyes wet?

“I have a feeling it won’t be the hardest quest in the known universe,” he says, his fingers going to the hems of Robb’s jacket.

“Then go for it,” Robb says, standing still; Theon makes quick work of getting rid of his jacket and shirt, even if his fingers are kind of shaking, and when both are on the ground -

He notices exactly what Robb had hoped he’d notice, not that it’s hard given that while he only has one visible scar on his entire body it’s, well, of considerable dimensions.

“What the _hell_ ,” Theon says looking at the mess of scarred tissue spreading all over Robb’s stomach.

“Since it’s caring and sharing time,” Robb says, reaching out to grab Theon’s hand and push it against it, “I think it’s my turn. I told you that my brother -”

“The one who’s actually your cousin?”

“Yeah, that one. I mentioned that his granddad is a complete psychopath, didn’t I?”

“You might have.”

“Er, okay, long story that no one has time for right now, but when I just got my driving license Jon was visiting him - back in the day it was either regular visits or he couldn’t stay with us, so. One weekend each month or something. So one Saturday he calls home and says he can’t take staying there any longer, I was the only one with a car available because my parents were out, I went to get him, I hightailed out and since said psychopath granddad lived in a mansion with the private path going in from the freeway, and the path wasn’t well-kept - I crashed.”

“Shit, it’s bad.”

“Er, well, it was. You don’t wanna know the details. Thankfully it was near the exit and someone stopped and called an ambulance, and Jon barely got scratched, but I gained the souvenir. I didn’t drive for the next two years and the next few months were bad, but that’s not the point. It barely even hurts anymore and it’s been ten years. Anyway, does _that_ put you off?”

“What? No, of course -”

“Then why should yours put me off?”

“Because -” Theon starts, and then he stops dead in his tracks. “Damn you,” he admits a moment later, “Fine. You’re right.”

“Good. So, are we still doing that or was it too much caring and sharing?”

“Well,” Theon says, “you might have to put me back in the mood a bit, but I’m game if you are.”

“I definitely am.” He’s sure that it won’t take him too much time to get back in the mood, indeed, and so he kicks off his shoes - better now than being hindered later. Theon does as well, but then his hands stop hovering on his belt and Robb moves closer again.

“Shit,” Theon says, “I was a lot smoother about this years ago.”

“Need a hand there?”

“What if I might?”

“I had prizes to claim, didn’t I?”

Theon’s breathing evens out as Robb gets rid of the belt and unbuttons his trousers - when he gets another nod he just grabs at Theon’s hips and moves back towards the bed. He stops just when the back of his knees hits the mattress, then he smiles ever so slightly and sits down on the bed.

“What are you -”

“Getting you back into the mood,” Robb says, and then pushes down both trousers and underwear Theon had on, and yes, his head is exactly at the perfect height for this.

“Robb -”

“Anything against that?”

“Well, _no_ , but -”

“Good,” Robb replies, and before Theon can object to it with something like _you shouldn’t_ , he takes him in his mouth - good thing that he’s half-hard now, not as much as he was before. It’s easier and he can get to the point gradually. He only works on the tip for a bit and then when he takes in a bit more and he feels Theon’s fingers tentatively touch his hair he sends upwards what he hopes is an encouraging look. Given that Theon finally pulls his head closer he guesses it worked. He’d smirk to himself if he could, but since he can’t he just takes Theon’s cock halfway into his mouth - that’s about as much as he can take when he hasn’t done this in months and the position is what it is - and then moves a hand downwards so he can wrap his fingers around the part he can’t reach.

“Fuck,” Theon mutters from above him, sounding fairly breathless - Robb just tries to match his tongue’s motions and his finger’s, even if it’s complicated given that Theon’s grip on his hair is becoming tighter and it’s definitely turning him on, damn it. “Fuck, Robb, that’s - I won’t last long if -”

Even better, Robb would like to tell him - but he can’t now, can he, so he keeps on sucking him off, and damn if feeling Theon grow harder inside his mouth isn’t being a turn on in itself. He feels the tug on his hair, one that was bordering on painful, not long later, but he doesn’t move - he’s going to see this through the very end, he thinks, and waits for it. Theon goes momentarily very still a moment later, and Robb braces himself for it - he moves away enough that when Theon comes inside his mouth he doesn’t risk choking and he moves a hand back to Theon’s hips, grasping at them tighter.

He doesn’t choke on come , and he doesn’t spit either - some goes on his face, but on top of that he’s sure that for being out of practice he can’t have done too bad, and then Theon’s knees kind of falter, Robb catches him and they end up both tumbling over the bed without much dignity. For that matter, Robb’s jeans are seriously constricting by now, but he can worry about that later.

“Hey,” he says, turning towards Theon, who’s breathing in heavily and has landed halfway on top of him, “everything all right?”

“Fuck, Stark, what do you think?” His cheeks are flushed, he sounds out of breath and he doesn’t look too keen on moving; Robb figures he hasn’t done too bad.

“That for being the first time I blew a guy in months, it went a lot better than I expected?”

“Understatement,” Theon mutters to himself before looking at him. “Anyway, I’m very much _all right_ , thanks. You, on the other side -”

“We can work on that,” Robb says, his hand going to the side of Theon’s face. “I accept suggestions.”

Theon takes in another deep breath, then -

“How do you like it?”

“I’m flexible,” Robb replies. It’s not like he has absolute preferences, so -

“Yeah, but I still want to know how do you like it. Don’t worry, I’ll tell you if I can’t handle it. I’d have never started it if I wasn’t in that mindset.”

“Well, er, I like being on top more, but -”

“Excellent,” Theon interrupts, and then first lifts the covers and then grabs at Robb’s wrists before throwing himself on his back so that Robb’s on top of him. “Because I like _this_ better anyway. Of course I just realized I don’t have condoms, damn -”

“I think we can manage without,” Robb says. “There’s ways and ways.”

“Do you have something in mind?”

“Maybe. How about I put it into practice and you stop me if you hate it?”

“Sounds good.”

Robb leans down and kisses him quickly once, but then he leans away and moves his mouth downwards - he kisses his way down Theon’s neck until a fairly bad whip scarring on his shoulder before moving down to his arm. He traces one of the tattoos with his lips as he gets rid of his jeans and underwear, then looks for some friction against Theon’s leg and moves so that he can run his tongue along a tattooed knife scar while he grinds against Theon very, very slowly. It’s excruciating, also because he’s really hard here, while Theon’s maybe barely interested given that he came not long ago.

But Theon doesn’t stop him, and so Robb moves on to the other arm giving it the exact same attention. Actually, Theon’s breath hitches in small moans as Robb runs his tongue over his wrist before kissing it lightly and moving back to his mouth - the way Theon keeps on moaning into his mouth is truly a thing of beauty, Robb thinks as his free hand reaches in between the two of them. Theon’s definitely not getting off again but he’s _this_ close, so he figures it can’t hurt to help himself down here a bit - it takes a couple of strokes before he’s coming against Theon’s thigh, his mouth crashing against Theon’s again and again as it happens.

Theon’s hands go back to his hair as they kiss and Robb sighs into it, his entire body alive with the aftershocks of it, and when he knows he’s about spent he throws himself on the side so that he doesn’t end up smothering Theon by accident, but it works relatively - when he lands, there’s not much space between them at all.

The sheets are, of course, damned sticky.

For a moment they just stare at each other - Theon’s cheeks are flushed red and he’s smiling as if he can’t physically stop it, and Robb knows he must look about the same. He moves a bit closer and turns his head so that it’s against the palm of Theon’s left and kisses the empty space where his ring finger should have been. Theon goes still at once, but then - then he throws an arm around Robb’s waist and moves closer, not even bothering to pull up the covers.

“Seriously?” He asks, and he sounds halfway embarrassed but also - happy, Robb guesses, or at least somehow giddy. He’ll take it. One of Theon’s hands goes to the mess of scar tissue on Robb’s stomach and Robb lets him touch it - after all, _he_ still has feeling in that area and it hasn’t been the bad kind of for a while.

“Seriously,” Robb replies as his clean hand goes back towards carding through Theon’s hair all over again. “Why, regretting it already?”

“Are you insane? Best damned decision I took in the last ten years, if you ask me. Not that you have to say the same, of course, I doubt that -”

“Theon?”

“Yes?”

“I’m not regretting it either. And I’m not saying it because I have great manners.”

Theon’s mouth curls into a genuine laugh that vibrates against Robb’s lips, his maimed hand tentatively setting on his hip.

“Damn it, you mean it,” Theon says, and it’s not a question, but he says it as if he’s honestly marveling at it.

( _Robb means it now. He’ll mean it this evening when he insists to buy dinner for the two of them, he’ll mean this tomorrow when they maybe go to work holding hands and a couple of his students will congratulate them and add_ hey, we had been shipping you since the first class you did together, congratulations on being this efficient _. At that point Theon will ask him what the hell it means that they were_ shipping _them and Robb won’t have a clue, but he will think he has it figured out, and he won’t be too far off the mark. He’ll mean it when he introduces Theon to his family at New Year’s Eve, he’ll mean it when Stannis Baratheon asks them about relationships in the workplace and then deems them professional enough that he can trust them to not create problems for everyone else. He’ll mean it in their second shared class next semester, during which Theon has plenty more students in the first place, but they had such fun the first time, why not doing it again? He’ll mean it when he buys Theon tickets for some ridiculous marathon of trashy scifi movies from the sixties for his birthday. He’ll mean it when in May he meets Theon at the bar in front of their university before going in and he sees that he has short sleeves on - they’ll go in together as usual, and he’ll glare at anyone in the staff room who looks as if they want to ask questions. He’ll mean it when Ygritte drags them on a double date with her and Jon - Jon and Theon spend it bickering while Robb and Ygritte just stare at them fondly, and he won’t regret a moment of it. He can’t know right now, but he’ll never quite stop meaning it._ )

“Yes,” Robb answers, moving closer again, figuring that he should make it clear for good before going for a kiss again. “Yes, I really do.”

 

End.


End file.
